The Damage
by Princess Pinky
Summary: Brian Williams is not the only one left grieving for his lost child: what about Tabetha and Augustus Pond? Several years after Amy's and Rory's disappearances, Tabetha is still waiting for an answer about what became of her little Amelia Pond. Will she ever find out the truth?
1. Part One

**A/N: **So after "The Angels Take Manhattan," there was a giant influx of Brian Williams fics. It literally jumped from two to thirty-one in a manner of days. Most of them involve either The Doctor and/or River telling Brian what happened and Brian finally getting to meet his granddaughter. So if you're anything like me, you now have a pretty good idea of how River and Brian meet. But, what about Tabetha and Augustus? They knew about The Doctor too, but they never got to travel with him. Yet nobody's writing fics about how they are dealing with the Ponds' disappearance. Well, now someone is (it started out as a one-shot and turned into a two-shot, imagine that!), and that's your spoiler warning for 7x05 if for some crazy reason you haven't seen it yet.

_**The Damage**_

**Part One**

Miniature white and purple roses, that's all she could smell. The perfumey odor was almost more than she could bear. They reminded her of better days and that alone made her want to tear them all down and burn them in effigy. She'd only chosen them because they were _his_ favorite. That, after all, was why their daughter had worn them in place of a tiara on her wedding day.

Tabetha Pond curled her head in, tucking her right cheek to her right shoulder, effectively smothering her tears with the chiffon sleeve of her onyx colored dress. She hurriedly worked her fingers through her clutch, finding a natty, mascara and concealer blotched tissue at top, and yanked it out in order to blot her eyes and dab her nose.

Just as she was tucking the holey piece of paper back into her clutch for safe keeping her eyes stole upon the person she'd been looking for since the service: from her seat in the front pew she'd caught a glimpse of him in the back, having arrived just minutes before it had started. It had been her intent to track him down afterwards, but she'd been bombarded with mourners offering comfortless condolences instead, and somehow he'd disappeared into the fray.

"You came!" she called, cornering him near the hallway. "I didn't think you'd come. I'm so glad you came, Brian."

Brian Williams smiled softly. "Of course I came," he said quietly. "We're still family, right?"

"I – I didn't mean it like that," Tabetha backpedaled. "I'm sorry! I just meant –"

Brian pressed his hands to her forearms and squeezed them reassuringly. "I know what you meant," he said smiled sadly. "No harm done." Then he drew her into an embrace.

Tabetha was rigid at first, before slowly easing her arms around his back. She noted the rough feel of the coal colored suit jacket beneath her fingertips. Brian Williams in anything other than a bulky vest with too many pockets just wasn't right. He had been such a recluse the past several years that he was one of the last people she'd expected to show up, least of all in a suit. "Thank you."

"If there's anything I can do…"

Tabetha shook her head against the well between his shoulder and his neck. "I can't think of anything."

"Well if you do," he said, gently pulling back, "just let me know."

Tabetha nodded. "Thank you," she mumbled again.

Brian glanced uneasily down the hallway and flashed a meek smile. "Restrooms still down this way?"

Tabetha felt her cheeks grow a little warm. "Oh! Is there where you were off to?" she asked rhetorically. "Off with you, then! I didn't realize."

Brian nodded. "I'll be right back," he smiled before excusing himself.

Tabetha watched Brian's slightly stocky stature recede down the hallway a little more quickly than she would have thought he could and then dejectedly turned to stare at the sea of black and navy blue that was swarming through her living room. She was trying to decide how rude it would be to sneak upstairs to their – _her _– bedroom when she noticed something at the refreshments table.

A bouquet of blonde ringlets connected to a long, slender figure in a primly put together black pencil skirt and matching jacket, completed with dark stockings – the seams perfectly aligned – and shiny black pumps that Tabetha was positive she couldn't afford with a year's worth of gross wages.

Tabetha approached the figure cautiously and the nearer she got, the stranger things she noticed. For one, the woman was standing in front of the apple tray – each with ironically happy faces carved into them – clutching one of the apples in her palm, her nails nearly as red as the apple skins themselves. She had her eyes closed and seemed to be completely oblivious to the goings on around her. "Excuse me," Tabetha breathed, her fingers brushing the woman's wrist ever so smoothly, "but may I ask who you are?"

The woman's eyes snapped open and the apple fell from her fingers. It hit the floor with a thud and fell on its proverbial head, making the happy face appear as a sad one. "I'm sorry!" she blurted out, instantly bending down to retrieve the fallen apple. "I wasn't paying attention."

"It's my fault," Tabetha disagreed. "I snuck up on you, I apologize." She waited until the blonde had stood up again, with the apple in hand. "I just…I saw you come in with Brian at the service and…" She smiled awkwardly. "Are you..._together_?"

To Tabetha's surprise, the woman's face began to turn the color of her nails and the apple she held so tightly. Maybe even more so. "No. No! I'm _married!_ Brian and I…we're…_related_."

The words sent a shock through her system and Tabetha attempted to place how that could be: from what Amy had always said, Brian was an only child. He and Rory's mother had divorced when Rory was young, as she recalled, and he'd remarried shortly after Rory's eighteen birthday to a woman that Amy often complained hated them both. In fact, the tension had become so extreme that it had caused a rift between Brian and Rory mere months before Rory's own wedding, resulting in Brian's absence. After his second wife's passing, they'd slowly begun to repair their relationship, but according to Amy, it hadn't been until 2020 – for reasons she didn't specify – that they'dreally become close; closer than they'd ever been, in fact. That had only made their subsequent disappearance so much worse.

"I d-didn't realize," Tabetha sputtered. She seemed to be saying that a lot today. Although she didn't want to be rude, the woman was nagging at her: why had Brian brought someone she didn't even know to the service? How was she related to him in the first place? Not that it mattered, though, and maybe that was the point: her mind just needed something else to focus on. "How rude of me," she said suddenly, offering a shaky hand. "I'm Tabetha. And you are?"

After a beat, the woman accepted her hand. "R – Melody."

"Melody?" A cold shiver rippled under the surface of her skin. The universe couldn't seem to reel in its cruelty. "My – my daughter used to have a friend named Melody…growing up. Mels, we called her." She felt her eyes water up. "She disappeared quite a few years back, though. No one ever did find out why."

"I'm sorry," Melody whispered.

Tabetha retrieved her tissue from her clutch again and swiped her eyes. "Leadworth certainly is getting smaller and smaller these days."

Melody brushed the fallen apple against her skirt and raised it. "Were these your idea?"

She laughed bittersweetly. "I used to make them for my d-d-aughter…she hated apples so I drew faces into them so she would eat them." Tabetha watched Melody reach for one of the Dixie cups of caramel sauce as if in a trance. "Amy took after her father, ever the sweet tooth." Another laugh came, though this time a bit less on the bitter side. "I used to tease him by saying he was my very own Augustus Gloop."

Melody nodded. She tilted the Dixie cup and peered into the sludgy ambery goo.

"River?"

Tabetha lifted her head at the sound of Brian's voice. "Brian! I – I noticed you came in with Melo – wait, _River?_"

Brian looked questioningly towards Melody. "Melody?"

"Wh–" Tabetha shifted her head between the two. She'd been around long enough to know when a conversation with eyes when she saw one. "Brian, what aren't you telling me? Who's River? Are _you_ River? You said you were Melody!"

Brian grabbed Melody by one arm and Tabetha by the other. "Why don't we go that way?" he asked, nodding towards the hallway. He shifted his eyes, silently pointing out the curious and puzzled stares they were beginning to attract.

Tabetha smiled politely. "If you'll excuse us," she said before wriggling her arm from Brian's grasp and motioning her hand in a fashion an angry mother might use on her child. "After you." She watched the two reluctantly move ahead of her and followed close behind, gauging their interpersonal movements though they didn't yield any clues as to what on Earth might be going on.

Brian shut the door as soon as everyone was inside.

They had picked the laundry room, of all places, and the last thing Tabetha thought she needed was the sight of Augustus's shirts. Still, she held firm, glaring at Brian and Melody – or River – as she waited for an answer.

"Tell her."

"You know how –"

"Tell. Her. She deserves to know!"

Tabetha shot Melody a pointed look. "Tell me what?"

"It's complicated –"

"It's not that complicated," Brian interjected.

For some reason the fifty-something woman was suddenly wearing the look of a child who just got caught in a fib. "Don't you think she's been through enough today?"

"I'll be the judge of how much I can take, thank you very much, young lady!"

Brian raised his eyebrows amusedly.

Melody sighed and stared down into the Dixie cup of caramel sauce. "I'm not just related to Brian," she finally announced. "I'm his – his granddaughter."

Tabetha felt her lips fall apart but no words came out.

"Do you remember Amy's wedding?" she continued.

"How could I forget?" Tabetha practically bit back. "A big blue box materializes on the dance floor and my daughter's imaginary friend walks out and proceeds to dance with everyone!"

Melody grinned. "Yeah, he does love to dance at weddings."

"You know him? You know Amy's imaginary friend?"

Once again, Melody looked to Brian. She glared. "I'm _married_ to him."

"_What?"_

"Mrs. Pond," Melody said, dipping her finger into the caramel sauce. "Did you know that when Amy and Mels were little girls, your husband used to fill bowls of melted caramel up for them and they'd take those happy apples you used to carve and…" She ran her caramel coated finger along the curved line of the apple that made its mouth "…draw lipstick grins on their faces with it?"

Momentarily stunned by the information, Tabetha could only nod. She had once walked in on such an intimate scene and watched, but had never let on that she knew what Augustus condoned doing to what she had thought were her _healthy snacks_. When she finally found her voice she asked: "How did_ you_ know that?"

"I think you're going to need to sit down for this."

"I'm fine just where I am," Tabetha insisted, leaning against the dryer.

"All right, if that's how you feel…I know that it's no use arguing with a Pond woman." Melody set the grinning caramel lipped apple onto the hood of the dryer and folded her arms to mirror Tabetha's stance. "Then allow me to reintroduce myelf: I go by River Song, but that's not my birth name. I was born Melody…Melody _Pond_. But _you _know me best as Mels Zucker." River offered her hand. "And I'm very sorry that it's under these circumstances, but I am grateful to see you again, Grandmother."

"_Grandmother?"_

"Now do you want to sit down?" Brian asked.

Tabetha nodded and staggered back, easing herself into a pile of dirty clothes and not even caring. "Grandmother?" she asked again. "That's – that's –"

"As impossible as your daughter's imaginary friend showing up at her wedding?" River nodded slyly. "That's where you know me from, by the way. I was the one who handed you the blue diary to give to Amy."

"But –"

"No, just listen, there's more!" Brian urged.

And listen she did, to the entirety of River's – or was it Melody? or Mels? – story. None of it made much sense. She couldn't seem to wrap her head around the idea that anyone could change into a completely different person, least of all the daughter of her own daughter. But she kept coming back to the simple fact that The Doctor had appeared in the middle of the dance floor with his magic box. It wasn't magic, Amy had insisted, but Tabetha couldn't think of it any other way. Several times, especially near the end, Brian interjected too, but Tabetha held a poker face, and when they were done, they each waited anxiously for her answer, wearing faces that reminded her of Rory; a Williams face, Amy would probably say. Then there was a deep and resounding pang in her chest: _Amy. Augustus._

"Tabetha?" Brian asked tentatively.

But her only reply was the harsh cry of skin against skin: she had slapped them, Brian _and_ River. She wasn't sure whether she believed them yet, but the thing that scared her the most was that she just _might_, and that was why she stormed out of the laundry room with the door slamming shut behind her. If what River said was true, it was more than she could take on this black day, but they certainly had no right to be the ones to comfort her.


	2. Part Two

**A/N: **Okay, I lied. (But I'm not as bad as River and The Doctor…yet. :P) This is actually going to be a three-parter. After I turned it into a two chapter story, I just felt like it had a better flow if I cut up the second chapter. So, good news, more ficage, bad news, no resolution…yet.

_**The Damage**_

**Part Two**

A week after Augustus's funeral, Tabetha found herself standing in front of her daughter's blue door. She'd never had a key to the house prior to their disappearance, but Brian had eventually given her one. At the time, she'd been a little jealous, because she didn't even know that Brian had one: why Brian and not her and Augustus? But, she decided, maybe that had been Rory's decision; he'd always been a little more personable than their daughter in so many ways.

The key twisted in the lock and the door opened. For some reason, she'd been expecting it to creek for all the years that it hadn't been opened. She'd also, for some reason, expected to have a wave of smell – that unique Amy and Rory's house smell – crash over her. Neither occurred. It tugged at her heart a bit; she hadn't dared step foot in the house since their disappearance. It had been too painful. Augustus had, but not her. She had, however, been unwilling to sell it, just in case they ever did come back, and Brian had been more than happy to _continue watering the plants._

That memory made her suddenly aware of the sound in the house: a whirring, slurring sound, the sound of water through pipes. She looked up, then down, and finally turned in a half circle before she realized where the sound was coming from and where it was going to. She followed it, half glancing at the furniture and the pictures, all left in the places she remembered them the last time she had visited so many years ago, for Amy and Rory's ten year anniversary. She'd lost track of them for a while that day and she could've sworn that they'd changed clothes when she saw them again, but she never brought it up. If only she had interacted with them more.

A yelp sliced through her thoughts like a reaper's blade. Tabetha realized she was standing at the sliding glass door, staring into the garden. To her surprise, there was Brian. And River. The former was soaking wet, probably the reason for the yelp, seeing as how he was now chasing River around the yard with the hose. A smile almost came to her face, for in that fraction of a moment, she didn't see an old man and a middle aged woman: she just saw a grandfather and his granddaughter playing in the garden.

The moment ended shortly thereafter, when River came to an abrupt halt on the patio, having noticed Tabetha watching, and Brian barreled into her nearly knocking them both down. The hose freed from his hand and jerked towards the window, splaying water across the glass before falling to the ground and continuing to spew a puddle.

Tabetha stepped forward and carefully pulled back the sobbing glass door. She stepped over the hose in a Mary Poppins fashion and stood quietly before the two, surveying their deer-in-headlights expressions.

"Tabetha!" Brian said, daring to make the first utterance. "We didn't hear you come in." He was shivering, but trying not to show it.

"I didn't know you'd be here." She glanced at the trees, thick with foliage, then at the flowers – white, purple, and red rose bushes and a patch of sunflowers – bright as a brand new box of Crayola markers. "The plants look like they're doing well."

Brian nodded. "I water them every week."

What could she say to that? It was more than she did. "Oh." Tabetha was trying hard not to look at River, but the woman was right at the corner of her eye, and she couldn't help but see her. "And I suppose you help him?"

"Sometimes, yes," River admitted.

Brian scratched the back of his neck. "Th – there's a kettle on the stove. Would you like to come in and have a cuppa with us?"

"Not really."

"Oh."

Tabetha winced internally. She knew she was being mean, but that didn't necessarily mean she was being _unfair_. It was them, after all, who had waited until Augustus's wake to tell her what had really happened to her daughter and son-in-law. "I'll go find you some towels," she said, stepping back into the house. "I assume they're still in the linen closet in the hall?"

"He hasn't moved anything," River said, a bit defensively.

Tabetha ducked up the stairs without a word. She felt her eyes welling and swiftly used her sleeve to brush them dry. When she opened the linen closet she reached for the towels nearest to the edge. As she pulled them out she noticed something tucked deep into the back of the shelf. Wanting to extend her time upstairs, she set the towels onto the floor and reached for the object in the back. It turned out to be a rubbish bin bag: slippery and white, with a red drawstring. She unwound the string and pulled the bag open, revealing it to be full of more towels. But not bathroom towels, _beach_ towels.

The lesser used towels, hence the garbage bag. She knew, because she did the same thing with her own beach towels. It was fitting, because at that moment, she was unable to stem the sea of tears breaking in her eyes. Without hesitation, she shoved her fists into the bag and pulled out the top towel, burying her face into to catch the tears and muffle the sounds. When she did, the smell came: that Amy and Rory smell that had long disappeared from their house. It made her weep even harder.

A half an hour later, when she finally did come down, she found Brian at the table wrapped in a blanket and nursing a cup of something that smelled spicy and vaguely sweet but she couldn't place what the flavor was. Being a self defined tea nerd, she was a little surprised by that, but didn't allow it to show. Instead, she sat down across from him, and glanced at River rooting around in the kitchen from her peripheral view.

"She's like Amy, isn't she?"

Tabetha shifted her eyes. She realized she never brought the towel down that she had promised. "I forgot the –"

"Look at her," Brian insisted.

Tabetha turned her head a little. River was about four inches shorter than her daughter, her hair was all curls and blondeness, and frankly, she looked _nothing_ like her daughter.

"She's got Rory's nose, poor thing."

Tabetha did a double take and bit her lower lip to stop an instinctive smile from creeping onto her face. Actually, Brian was right. Then, as she continued to look, something niggled at the back of her head: a photo with raging ginger curls, like River's, only _Amy's_. It had been on the cover of _Elle_ magazine the year that Amy and Rory almost divorced. Then, as River returned from the kitchen, she was able to see her face in full and its moon shape reminded her of Amy's. So did those apple red nails. Even as a little girl Amy had had a nail varnish fetish and red had forever been her favorite.

As River set the kettle on the table Tabetha noticed a glint on her wrist. She grabbed for the River's hand, holding it against the kettle lid, and studied the dainty gold watch. "This watch…" she breathed.

River looked down. "It was –"

"My mother's," Tabetha finished. Her eyes sparkled.

"Yes," River agreed, painfully. "Mine too."

Tabetha released River's hand and pressed the back of her fingers to her eyes. She didn't want to break down again, not in front of them, and yet she didn't want to run away and hide either. She opted to grab for the kettle and a cup, pouring herself a raging cup and lifting it to her face so she could bury herself in the steam. From behind the cup, she heard River sit down in the seat between herself and Brian. After a while she dared to take a sip, hoping it wouldn't burn the tip of her tongue. To her surprise, the taste of the tea was foreign. "What is this?" she asked, moving the cup down so she could see over the rim.

"It's a fifty-first century blend," River replied. "Do you like it?"

Tabetha tasted it again. It was so strong, almost like cinnamon, but without the burning effect of cinnamon. "Fifty-first century?"

"The time travel bit," Brian said, "it takes a while to get used to. River brings a lot of tokens back for me when she visits."

Tabetha set the cup down and pushed it to the edge of the table. "About the time travel bit." Her voice was terse. "If you can do all this time traveling, why don't you do anything _useful_ with it? Like preventing the World Wars or – or – or saving my daughter from nineteen-thirty-eight?!"

River closed her eyes. "I understand your –"

"No. No you don't!"

"She was your daughter, but she was _my mother!_" River shouted. And suddenly the teacup she was holding slipped between her fingers, shattering on the table.

Brian jumped, but Tabetha remained still as the tea ran over the edge like a liquid cherry wood waterfall. "You didn't answer my question."

"Tabetha –"

"No. No, Brian, I want to know: why can't she – or that Doctor with his magic blue box – bring Amy and Rory back?" She shoved her chair back and scowled. "And why didn't anyone tell me I had a granddaughter before now? _Why?!_"

"It was their choice. Amy's and Rory's. I didn't even know until after they were gone. They didn't tell anyone. I would guess because it was too complicated…and too painful."

"But why did _you_ get to know and not me? Not Augustus?"

"Because it's one thing to _know_ about The Doctor," River replied, visibly restraining herself. "It's another thing to _travel_ with him; to be a piece of his world. Brian did and he spent all that time waiting for The Doctor to bring them back."

"And we didn't?"

"You waited, yes, but it's different!"

"Rubbish! If he got an explanation," she said, extending an accusatory finger at Brian, "then we deserved one too! But no, Augustus and I spent years and god knows how many tears and sleepless nights waiting for the daughter that would never come! Augustus _died_ waiting! You stole away from him any solace or closure he could have ever had! _Both_ of you! And that damned Doctor. How dare he think he think himself deserving of such a title."

"How dare _you_," River spat. "You don't know him. You don't know the things he's done!"

"Like lose my daughter to nineteen-thirty-eight New York and never have the courage to tell me to my face? Like being the reason you grew up as my daughter's best friend instead of her daughter?"

"It doesn't matter what you or anyone else says: I was her daughter. I _am_ her daughter. Amy knows that and_ I_ know that."

Brian rose and stepped between them, the edge of his blanket falling into the spilt tea. "Look at the pair of you!" he scolded. "Is this what either of you thinks Amy and Rory would want? You fighting like cats and dogs instead of coming together like a family – however unconventional – should?"

River closed her eyes and swallowed heavily. "He's right."

"He may be right, but that doesn't mean it's going to happen. You can't smooth this over just by using Amy against me, Brian. I'm still without a daughter, you're still without a son, and the fact remains that you two were never planning on telling me the truth."

"The timelines in nineteen-thirty-eight are in scrambles because of the Angels battery farm and concentration of paradoxes that occurred when we were there trying to fix things. The TARDIS can't go back there because they are too fragile. Imagine it like a window shield: you may get away with so many pebbles or rocks hitting it, but eventually it will crack, maybe even spider web, and it wouldn't take much after that to completely break it in. That's what going back to nineteen-thirty-eight New York would do and there would be no way to repair it after that. It'd probably attract the attention of the Reapers and then all hope would be lost."

"The Reapers?"

"A very old alien race that is attracted to paradoxes, the bigger the better, and they 'sterilize' the paradoxes by devouring them. They would literally eat up New York and everyone in it until there was nothing left."

"So why not just go back to just before Rory saw his headstone and stop him?"

"It would be going back on our own timeline. It's – it's not impossible, but it's extremely dangerous."

"Then why not just go to nineteen-thirty-nine and pick them up?" Tabetha hollered in frustration. "Or have them go to New Jersey instead of New York and bring them right back here?!"

River looked to Brian and the latter sighed. He moved into the kitchen and opened a drawer. A few minutes later he returned and handed a manila folder to Tabetha.

"What is this?"

"Look for yourself."

She peeled back the cover and found photocopies and newspaper clippings; some clippings were yellowed with fraying edges, as you would expect them to be, but others looked like they'd been clipped just yesterday even though they had dates from decades ago stamped upon them, and in them, she saw Rory. And Amy. Her hands shuddered.

The earliest cutout was from 1939, an op-ed article on immigration. In it there were references about being forced to move from Scotland to Leadworth as a child and again before forced to move from London to New York as an adult, though details of how and why were left bare in the latter. In fact, there were several op-ed pieces spanning over a decade including ones on fertility issues, motherhood, and even an article as late as 1950 in praise of Jane Grant and the reconstitution of the Lucy Stone League, a feminist group dedicated to helping women keep their maiden names on official documentation even after marriage. Ironically, it was credited as being written by Amelia _Williams_.

"They went by Williams in the past," River said when Tabetha looked up. "It draws much less attention than Pond, if you think about it. Williams is the third most popular surname in the United States. If someone were doing historical or genealogical research, it would have been very curious to find another Amelia Pond married to another Rory Williams in the history books…especially one who looks exactly like a rather famous model, businesswoman, and travel journalist from twenty-twenty."

"And she did take Rory's name," Brian added a little defensively. _"Legally."_

"On _paper_ you mean," Tabetha shot back. "She always went by Amelia Pond socially and professionally. She only took his name on paper because she knew Rory wanted that. I lost count of how many bowls of midnight chocolate chip pancake batter we made when we stayed up to talk about that in the months before the wedding. If Amy had had it her way, Rory would've changed his name to Pond like Augustus did."

"Augustus changed his name?" Brian blinked.

"Changed his deed poll in Scotland when we got married." She smiled slyly at the memory.

River mirrored Tabetha's expression: "And that was never lost on her. She fought Dad to make sure I was a Pond. Not to hurt him, but because it was something that she felt as fiercely about as he did when he wanted her to be Mrs. Williams."

Tabetha surveyed the papers in her hands again and realized that one was titled: _Pond River Publications Début! _"What's this?"

"After becoming known for her op-ed pieces in various New York papers over the years, she became a feminist columnist and eventually opened her own publishing house: Pond River Publications. The first thing it ever published was a book called _Melody Malone_, written by me, with an 'Afterward' by Mum. The publishing house ended up wildly success, specializing in fantasy and science-fiction novels, though it wasn't exclusive to that. I even ended up writing a prequel for her later, called _The Angel's Kiss_." River rolled her eyes, smiling. "I wasn't in it the profit, mind you, I wrote it for a charity fundraiser to collect money for…" She moved to stand beside Tabetha, rifling through the papers in her shaky hands. She picked one out and pointed to a photograph of Amy and Rory standing in front of a restored children's home. "…Melody's Home. Formerly, Graystark Hall."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "Graystark Hall? But isn't that where you said –"

"The Silence held me in my first incarnation for several years under the brain scrambled Doctor Renfrew, yes. Mum and Dad completely gutted and restored the place in nineteen-seventy-three. The restoration was completed in seventy-five and officially opened on my birthday of the same year." She tapped the photograph of Amy and Rory, hand-over-hand, cutting the ribbon of Melody's Home for the opening ceremony.

Tabetha felt her nose tickle and begin to dribble so she lifted her sleeve to dab it. "You said you wrote those books for Amy. You must have been able to see her then? So why can't you bring her back?"

"I sent them to her, I never said I saw her," River corrected.

"How is that possible?"

River sat down across from her grandmother. "The Doctor isn't the only one with contacts all over time and space. Let's just say a certain Time Agent owed me a favor for arresting me for a crime I never actually committed…although, to be fair, he doesn't actually remember arresting me for it, but that's the Time Agency for you."

Tabetha returned a blank stare.

River sighed and tried again: "Look, the more details I give you, the more complicated and convoluted it becomes, but all you need to understand is that I know someone who gets around almost as much as myself and The Doctor – usually because he_ lives_ it – and he was able to deliver the manuscripts for me without damaging the timelines."

"I know you want them back, Tabetha, you know I do. But look at what they've done! Look at how instrumental they have been on history. You're holding Amy's accomplishments in yours hands! And Rory, oh, _Rory!_" Brian beamed. "Did you know that Rory saved hundreds of lives during World War Two? There's even a website dedicated to him online – top of my favorites list! – which was created by veterans who would have died were it not for him. And have you ever heard of the World Health Organization? WHO, for short. _My boy_ was instrumental in its inception in nineteen-forty-eight! Even if it were possible to get them back, think about what we'd be taking away from the world."

"You can call me selfish all you want, but I'd rather have my daughter back."

"You're not the first Pond woman to say that, but it doesn't make it any less impossible. This was Amy's choice."

"You don't get to say something is a choice when you're choosing between the lesser of two evils."

"There's always going to be evil, somewhere, some when. Someone's hope is someone else's destruction. Every choice we make is a lesser evil."

"You just keep speaking in riddles."

"I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry. I'm just trying to clarify this for you. I don't know what else I can say. Time travel is not an easy science."

Tabetha gathered all of the clippings against her breast and turned gave Brian a side winding glance. "Can I keep these? For a while, I mean."

Brian nodded. "However long you need them. In fact," he raised his finger, "let me go get you a few more things. One moment."

Tabetha stared at the articles again. She couldn't seem to extract her eyes from the ones with the pictures. The one of Rory and Amy in front of Melody's Home sang to her in so many different ways. If only Augustus could see it too.


End file.
